Page 83 of Found in Obscurity
Lorin smiled as best he could. “It’s okay.”
He looked around himself. The covers were blue too, a lighter shade, and the furniture was a dark wood Lorin recognized from the trees outside. He stepped forward and traced the bedpost, following the lines with his hands and wondering if his mother or father had made it themselves.
Kit stepped up to his side, grabbing a hold of Lorin’s sleeve, not for attention, but as a show of support.
“I guess I was feeling brave today. It’s going to be the same whether I do it now or in two years, right? It’ll still hurt just as much.”
Kit ducked his head to meet his eyes, nodding in support, as if to say without words, ‘you are brave and I’m here for you.’
He moved to the side then, huddling in one of the corners as if letting Lorin know he was there but that he wouldn’t stand in hisway, like he somehow understood Lorin needed to do this on his own.
And he did.
He had to breathe in the magic his mother had left lingering in the air. Had to let his eyes see the place they were the most vulnerable together, the place where they felt safe together. The place where his mother had taken her last breath. And the place where his father had surrendered to their bond and followed her.
The room pulsed with their power. After holding it in for all of the years since they’d been gone, it felt like it was coursing through his veins. It reminded him of the magic room, but this was different. The magic room had harnessed power, controlled spells, and well-thought-out rituals. The power in this room was raw. Waiting to be gathered and used. Waiting to feed into something bigger, something more substantial than the sum of its parts.
Lorin didn’t know where to start.
His hands ached to touch everything, to see if there were memories triggered that he wasn’t aware of yet. If there were traces of his parents there that weren’t just the tales his grandmother had told him. He wanted to know if there was anything of him merged with them that he could find.
He needed to see if there was a family there. His family.
He ran his fingers over their pillows, saying tiny incantations as he went, making sure the tendrils of his magic went to Kit as well. He needed him to stay. The magic worked up the dust from the bedding and sent it glimmering into the air, the tiny particles like glitter against the brightness of the day.
He sent his magic to open drawers, to slip inside them and pull out whatever it could find. He found confirmation there of what his grandmother had always told him. His mother had been chronically organized and tidy. Her bedside table was neatlyfilled with essentials she wanted to have close. Lorin found her favorite perfume, a small phone book she kept close, and a small binder filler with handwritten instructions for rituals she wanted to try. It was color coded and separated into the moon phases and times of day when the ritual worked best. There was also a small jar filled with pretty rocks in different shapes and sizes.
A memory flashed before his eyes of her wearing a necklace with a rock pendant on it. Lorin ran a finger over the jar, wondering if that necklace had been made from the rocks she’d collected. He wished he could trust his mind with it.
His dad, on the other hand, was a different story altogether. His side was basically just one junk drawer after another. Filled to the brim with whatever he threw in there, it seemed, and jammed with objects that wouldn’t budge without a little magical intervention.
Lorin sent an incantation inside, pushing the drawers open and finding the most random assortment of things he could imagine. The small pocketknife made sense, as did the scraps of wood he had started to carve into small figurines.
But there was a lone glove in there too, a pack of batteries, a roll of copper wire, a set of dice, parts of a pen that had been taken apart, and so much more that Lorin couldn’t even process it all.
“I don’t think I take after my dad at all,” he said softly, turning around to look at Kit and returning the reassuring smile he sent his way.
He moved to the wardrobe at the other end of the room, opening it and gasping at the scent that he knew for sure had belonged to the two of them. Those memories he trusted. They felt real. Tangible somehow.
Grass and wood, lavender and humidity. He ran his hands over his mom’s dresses and his dad’s shirts, using magic again to clear out any evidence of time on them. The fabric movedlike it was alive under his fingers, slipping through them and whispering as it fell down again.
He didn’t remember any particular outfit or pattern, but it all still felt like a part of his past. Like he knew it was somehow a part of him.
He moved a few clothes hangers and spotted a large box at the bottom of the wardrobe. He crouched and opened it slowly, coming face to face with what looked like a photo album—one he hadn’t seen before. One his grandmother had never shown him.
He took it out of the box and sat down with his back against the bed, the scent on it now fresh and herbal. Calming. He balanced the leather-bound photo album on his knees and placed his palms on top of it.
He could feel his heart hammering in his chest as his eyes misted over. He wanted to see the memories inside, but he wasn’t sure he was capable of opening himself up to it.
A head landed on his shoulder and pale fingers covered his in a comforting touch. The sound of paper ripping broke through the swirl of emotion inside of him, and then a note appeared in front of him.
I’m here.
A beacon of light showing Lorin he wasn’t alone. He turned his head to the side and pressed his lips against the fluffy hair tickling his neck.
“Thank you,” he whispered, taking the note and tucking it close to his chest as he cracked the album open.
Slowly.